Blood and Choice
by Liael
Summary: Sequel to Blood and Trust. Will be updated weekly from September 2014. Raema faces new challenges to her loyalty, as Juraene clan re-establishes itself as the only vampire clan on Vvardenfell. Includes a recap of Blood and Trust.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:** This is a _very_ belated sequel to my Morrowind story _Blood and Trust_. This chapter includes a short recap of that story so that it's not necessary to go back and read the whole thing.

I published a slightly different version of this first chapter a few years ago. This is the updated version; the story is completely written, and I will publish a new chapter every Monday. Enjoy!

_In Blood and Trust, a vampire named Assurjan Juraene grew strong enough to leave Berne clan, and he became an Ancient in his own right. A Bosmer slave named Raema was given the choice of becoming Assurjan's emissary, the Hand of the Ancient, or becoming food for Juraene clan. Reluctantly, she chose to work with the vampires, becoming more and more entangled with vampire culture- much of which conflicted with her conscience. Further complicating matters, she could not deny a growing sense of attraction between herself and Assurjan._

_ Conflict among the vampires intensified, as Berne, Quarra and Aundae all united to wipe out the upstart Juraene clan. Before going to spy on Raxle Berne, Raema shared Assurjan's bed. Without her knowledge, the Ancient turned her undead, fearing that she would be made a member of Berne clan if he did not claim her first. To her horror, Raema awoke three days later as a Juraene vampire and a prisoner of Raxle Berne._

_ Hurt and betrayed by Assurjan's actions, Raema escaped and sought her friend Jole Devan, a Redguard and former vampire himself, who hunted vampires for a living. He aided her in seeking the intervention of Molag Bal to cure her vampirism._

_ At the Juraene lair with his friend Irarak, another former member of Berne, Assurjan defeated Volrina Quarra in a sword duel that nearly trapped both of them out after sunrise. Later, as the vampires from all clans fought, Assurjan was betrayed and turned over to Berne by one of his own vampires, Silweyn. Ultimately, with the help of Raema and Jole, Juraene clan was victorious. Raxle Berne and Dhaunayne Aundae were killed, their followers scattered. Raema was restored to her living self, but she could not forgive Assurjan for betraying her trust. Still a slave, she continued to serve as Assurjan's Hand, but their relationship was now damaged and strained, and she longed for the day that the vampire would grant her freedom._

Blood and Choice

Chapter 1

Dawn was dangerously close, but Irarak's steps slowed as he neared his lair. _Something is wrong,_ he thought, risking a moment to stop while the sun continued its climb. He glanced around, eying the surrounding rocks. It was quiet, as it usually was; few creatures chose to call Molag Amur's harsh landscape home. He took a few more steps toward the tomb entrance, reaching out with his senses. This close, he should have been able to sense his vampires within; they should have been bright, familiar blotches of Berne blood on his mind's eye.

_Something_ was there, but it was only one, and it wasn't Berne.

He paused again, frowning, as worry began to tighten in his chest. Even if all of them had gone to hunt in the night, they should have returned by now. He had expected to be the last to return, not the first.

_Turn back_, his instincts warned him. _Get help, come back at sunset_. Irarak glanced back the way he had come, and grimaced. He'd chosen the Raviro tomb because it was close to Telasero, close to Assurjan's protection... but not _too _close. Despite his friendship with the Juraene Ancient, having two vampire clans living this close to each other was already a recipe for trouble.

Now, sunlight was gleaming on the tips of the highest peaks. He would never make it back to the stronghold before full daylight. While he had stood there thinking, his headache had grown too severe to ignore; now it throbbed incessantly behind his eyes. Muttering a curse, he reached for the door of the tomb.

Inside, his lair was as blessedly cool and dark as always, but he found no comfort in it. As he stepped inside, he recognized at once what awaited him in the depths of the tomb, and the worry in his chest became a knot of cold fear.

"No," he whispered, unwilling to believe what his senses were telling him. _Bloody Oblivion, why didn't I leave Telasero earlier? Or simply stay there for the day?_ Once more, he glanced behind him. Full day had broken over the rocky landscape, and light spilled through the open door dangerously close to his feet. The possibility of fleeing despite the sunlight ran through his mind. He had endured the sun's agony before... But no, he was not strong enough to withstand it the entire distance. It would burn him down to ashes before made it halfway back to Telasero. He was trapped.

Since he could not go back, he closed the door and forced leaden feet forward, down the stairs and through the first two rooms. They were empty of his people. Personal belongings were scattered about as if there had been a struggle. Some of the Raviro family's urns had been tipped, spilling ashes everywhere. _The Ancestor ghosts will be furious_, he noted numbly, taking in the scene. A slave's drained corpse lay brokenly against one wall, and a pool of dark blood was drying on the dusty floor near the door. Dunmer blood, by the scent of it... From one of his. He bit back another curse and hesitated at the door to his private chamber, hand hovering over the door handle.

She was waiting for him when he entered, as he'd known she would be. On the raised dais, in the chair he had set there for himself, Volrina Quarra lounged crookedly, one leg dangling over the chair's arm. Torchlight glinted on her armor, and she held something in her lap that his eyes skipped over quickly, instincts warning him not to look too closely.

"Ah, there you are!" She exclaimed, for all the world like a long-lost friend. "I was beginning to fear you wouldn't return until tonight. Cutting it a bit close, aren't you?"

Irarak clenched his teeth against a furious retort. Whatever she wanted from him, he would do his people no good if he didn't play this carefully. _If they still live._

"Where are my vampires?"

She made a sound of disapproval, shaking her head. "Irarak, I'm surprised at you. No respect, no proper welcome..."

He took a deep breath and fought back the sudden urge to charge at her. She would knock him aside as easily as an insect, and he would be no good to his vampires if _he_ were dead. "_My lady_," he ground out, with an effort. "Where are my vampires?"

On the dais, Volrina Quarra smiled, ghostly white eyes gleaming. "Much better," she purred. "They are safe, for now. Safely far away from here- except for this, of course." She tossed him the object in her lap. Irarak made no move to catch it; it dropped at his feet, sending up a little cloud of dust. He didn't want to look at it, didn't want to recognize it... But he knew that slender hand, knew the ruby ring that graced one slim finger. He had given that ring to Tredere not three weeks ago. He tore his gaze away from the grisly hand, struggling not to think of the agony she must be suffering, wherever she was.

"What do you want," he growled, waiting as long as he dared before adding, "...my lady?"

The Quarra Ancient shifted abruptly, sitting up in the chair and leaning forward. She peered at him past a fall of burgundy-red hair. "I want the same thing you do, Irarak," she said, in a low, dangerous voice. "I want my people back. But _you_ are fortunate: you have a chance to earn your vampires' freedom... While I must settle only for revenge."

"If you think I will betray Assurjan for them-"

"Oh, no," she interrupted softly. She stood and approached him, slowly, and Irarak took a step back before he could help himself. "_That_ is not why I took your young bloods. They were only to ensure your good behavior... and to prove a point."  
She swept an arm to the side, gesturing around the tomb he had taken for his lair. "You see how easily I came into your home, Irarak, and took your vampires away from you. Believe me, if I could do such a thing to Assurjan, I would have done it long ago, and your little followers would still be here. But I cannot... why is that?"

Irarak eyed her warily, wondering where she was leading him. "He is an Ancient," he said. "He has the strength to defend his clan, more than I."

Volrina smiled slowly, fangs glinting in the torchlight. "What if I could give _you_ that power? The power to keep your people safe _yourself_- no dependence on Assurjan or anyone else to keep your enemies away?"

"To make me an Ancient_,_" Irarak said flatly. "Forgive me if I seem skeptical, my lady."

Her smile widened unnervingly, and she turned away. "You never heard how _I_ became an Ancient, did you?" She picked up a book he had left on a nearby table, flipped idly through its pages. "It was the blood of my clan's Elders that did it. I hunted them down and drained them dry, drank their strength one by one, until even our Ancient could not stand against me. It takes time, but..." she glanced at him over her shoulder. "It is quite effective."

Irarak stared at her. She was lying, she _had_ to be- why would she be willing to offer such a thing?

_...But what if she tells the truth?_

"You don't believe me," she observed, dropping the book and coming back to him. "I suppose I'll have to prove it to you?" She began to unbuckle the glass bracer that covered her wrist.

_It's a trap,_ he told himself. _Ancients do not offer themselves, do not offer their own blood to drink._ He watched her remove the bracer, his thoughts racing. Until he drank, he could deny the truth of her words. But if he _did_ drink, and discovered she was right, he knew with a sinking certainty that he would not be able to refuse her offer.

_And if I _don't _drink, _he thought, _I will never know, and Tredere and the others will perish for my stubbornness._

Quarra held up a bare, pale wrist, and raised her eyebrows. With a snarl, Irarak clamped a hand around hers and drew it to his lips. Foolishly, he half expected the Ancient's skin to be tough, like an Aragonian's scales. But it was thin and fragile, like any other Nord's, and his fangs sank in easily, finding the vein between the tendons. Her blood was cold, the pulse sluggish, a far cry from the hot, throbbing blood of a living victim, but his initial distaste was forgotten when the power washed over him. It flared behind his eyelids in a blinding violet light, as if it illuminated him from the inside out. And with it came a rush of strength like he had never experienced before. Gods, he could destroy her right now, it would be so easy to just-

The flow of power was ripped away, and he staggered at the loss, blinking away the last of the blinding light. His newfound strength faded away... but not completely. A fraction remained, leaving him a touch faster, stronger. Gods, if just a short feeding could raise his threshold so, how much power would a longer feeding grant him?

Quarra was watching him as she buckled her bracer back in place, heedless of the blood that still oozed from her wrist. "Just a taste," she said quietly. "You see what I offer you?"

Irarak swallowed hard, trying to regain his focus after the too-brief feeding. "You... You have revealed a secret, but you are not the only Ancient who could-"

She laughed harshly. "Yes, yes, Assurjan _could_. But _would_ he? He believes he is the only Ancient left on Vvardenfell. Do you think he will share that power willingly, even with you?" She reached up as if to touch his face, and he flinched away. "Go to him, dear Irarak, and not only will he refuse you... but you will condemn your followers to death."

Her words shot a bit of clarity into his thoughts, though it was not the sort he wanted. He knew there was only one person with whom Assurjan might be willing to share his strength, and it was not Irarak. Old friends or not, the Juraene Ancient would not welcome Irarak's ascent to power.

"And what of you, my lady?" He asked. "If I agree, and Assurjan falls, that would still leave two Ancients. Are _you_ willing to share?"

Volrina Quarra's smile vanished. "Assurjan has destroyed my clan," she reminded him coldly. "I care for nothing but his own destruction. When that is accomplished... Well. We must skin one guar at a time." She stepped closer, milky-white eyes intent on his own. "Right now, this is your choice, Irarak: You can let your vampires die, and live with the guilt until I destroy Juraene clan and you with it... Or you can save the people who look to you for protection, and _keep_ them safe."

He knew, even before she finished, what his decision would be. How could he choose anything else? But he looked away, forcing himself to examine his options. _I owe him that much, at least,_ he thought sadly.

The moment's deliberation showed him nothing new, no alternate option. With a heavy weight settling into his chest, Irarak raised his head and met her gaze.

"What must I do, my lady?"

Quarra smiled again. "You would have made such a better Ancient than that s'wit Raxle," she murmured. "His vampires were no more important to him than the cattle... It is no wonder you left him." She turned away, dropping into a nearby chair at the foot of the dais. "I'll be sure to impress that upon your people when I return. Unfortunately, you and I are trapped here for the day... So to pass the time, why don't you tell me about Juraene clan?"

Irarak let out a long breath. "What do you want to know, my lady?"

"Everything," she smiled. "And I want you to be thorough- we have all day, after all." She waved a hand at his own chair on the dais. "Perhaps you would like to make yourself comfortable... _my lord._"

Irarak forced heavy feet to climb the steps, turned and sat. Quarra gazed up at him with a smug, knowing smile, waiting patiently for him to speak.

It went on for a long time. Irarak talked himself hoarse, relating all he knew of Assurjan, of Raema, of Juraene clan and its members, their alliances and activities. Quarra asked questions frequently, sometimes making him explain things three or four separate times. Some answers he was unable to give, like why Assurjan's relationship with his Hand had suddenly become so strained, or what was the purpose for the clan's alliance with House Hlaalu. As his distant awareness of daylight finally began to fade, the questions tapered off at last.

"I will contact you again," the Ancient informed him with a pleasant smile as she made ready to leave. "Remember who is depending on your cooperation, Irarak."

Irarak swallowed harshly, imagining Tredere and the others trapped somewhere at the mercy of the Quarra Ancient. _Gods help me, if you destroy them_... But it was an empty threat, and he did not voice it.

"I will remember, my lady," he said.

"Good," she said with a cruel smile as she left the room. Irarak watched her go, and kept her presence in his mind's eye when she left the tomb. He mentally followed her path southwest until she passed the limits of his awareness. Only then did he allow the guilt and worry for his vampires to spill over him. He collapsed back into his chair, burying his head in his hands.

_Forgive me, old friend..._


	2. Chapter 2

Blood and Choice

Chapter 2

"I don't like this," Dram Bero muttered, scanning the room warily. "Tell me again, _why_ are we here?"

Crassius smiled slightly. "Because I asked it of you, and I am the head Councilman, of course."

"And because we have no choice, since you entered into this agreement without consulting any of us first."

Crassius Curio returned Dram's level look with his typical nonchalance. "You don't trust me to do what's best for the House, Dram?"

"I trust that you are doing what you _think_ is best," the Dunmer replied. "But I also think your actions regarding these vampires have called your judgment into question."

Crassius laughed, though there was a level of tension beneath it. It did nothing to soothe Dram's nerves. "Stay after the meeting, Dram, so that I can convince you. There is some more information I want to share with you, only you, and I would like your opinion."

Dram glanced across the room at Nevena Ules, and smiled inwardly. Curio knew exactly the best way to manipulate him... but that was nothing new. Nearly all House Hlaalu knew Dram would jump at the chance to gain any advantage over his lady rival.

"And there is another thing," Crassius added, rubbing his hands together. "You know how I like to have... friends... in as many places as possible."

Dram snorted. It was standard procedure in House Hlaalu to have a network of informants and spies ensconced within rival and enemy groups... but even among the Councilors, Crassius was notorious for such things. "Yes. And you wish to expand into the vampires, is that it? I don't imagine you'll be able to find anyone willing to infiltrate _that_ group, my friend."

"Certainly not," the head Councilor agreed. "But the clan of Juraene does not consist only of vampires. The Ancient has an... assistant, a Bosmer woman. She- well, she was mortal for quite a long time during my dealings with the clan. The last time I saw her, she had been turned, but she assured me it was only a temporary condition."

_Interesting,_ Dram thought. "You want to bring her to us? Or have you already?"

Crassius grimaced. "Our interactions have been... less than satisfactory. I think she holds me too much in contempt to consider my suggestions. But she is a slave to the Ancient; she told me so herself. The promise of freedom- from someone who makes a better impression on her than I have- might be enough to persuade her to help us."

"Freedom, eh?" Dram raised an eyebrow. "I doubt that will be within our power to grant her, but I will try. What are you planning, Crassius?"

The other man smiled secretively, and began to reply, but a sudden knock at the door cut through the low murmur of conversation. The room fell into a nervous silence. All heads turned toward the door, then swung to look at Crassius, the only one of them who had any sort of experience with their new allies. He, in turn, gestured impatiently to Yngling Half-Troll. The big Councilor swallowed nervously, and went to open the door. They had all agreed hours ago that they would do without any servants- too many prying eyes and ears to observe who was visiting Balmora that night.

Standing in the doorway, Yngling exchanged quiet words with the guests. In the midnight darkness outside, Dram could see nothing but the outline of a dark hood and cloak. Around the edges of the room, the uneasy silence grew heavier.

Yngling stepped aside, opening the door wider and managing to half-hide himself behind it. "The- the Ancient of Juraene clan, Assurjan Juraene," he announced in a shaky voice, "-and the Hand of the Ancient, Raema of Juraene."

A slight figure stepped through the doorway, pulling back her hood to reveal a pale, delicate Bosmer face. Dram's eyes narrowed, gauging this so-called Hand of the Ancient. He made a habit of hiring capable bodyguards, and this Raema was certainly someone he would not turn away. Delicate appearance not withstanding, the woman moved with an easy grace that spoke of a readiness to use the sword strapped across her back, and to use it well. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face in a simple queue at the nape of her neck, and Dram noted that her right hand was mottled with a strange pattern of pink, healing skin. The Bosmer's dark eyes swept over the room's occupants, searching for threats like any good bodyguard should. Dram gave a respectful nod when her wary gaze settled on him.

Raema stepped aside, and a second figure entered the manor, one tall enough that he had to dip his head slightly to do so. He was shrouded entirely in black; for an instant, Dram had the unsettling sense that the darkness of the night itself was spilling physically into the room. Gloved hands reached up to pull back the cloak's hood, and Dram had to make an effort not to reach for the knife at his belt. The vampire was a Dunmer, but eyes that should have been a deep scarlet were instead pale, milky white, like a long-dead corpse's. His head was bare-skinned, but for a topknot of black hair that fell in a whip-like braid from the crown of his skull. He bore no weapons that Dram could see, but even if he had no blades hidden beneath that cloak, the Councilor had no intention of picking a fight with him. According to Crassius, the vampire was a powerful mage; reports from the Imperial Legion hinted that an entire unit of soldiers had been burned alive by his sorcery.

After a heartbeat's hesitation, Crassius Curio stepped forward, making a smooth, sweeping bow.

"My lord Ancient, it is a great honor to meet with you face-to-face at last," he said. "I bid you welcome to Balmora, and to House Hlaalu. And my lady Raema, how good to see you again. I am very glad to see that you are... feeling better."

The Hand blinked at him, then gave him a cool smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Crassius swallowed hesitantly, adding, "Is there... anything we may provide? A drink for you and the Hand, my lord, or..."

_Or blood,_ Dram finished silently. There had been a fierce debate over this just an hour earlier, for no one knew the proper etiquette for such a situation. Would it be an insult _not_ to offer? Surely the Ancient would not ask such a thing of them... would he?

To everyone's relief, Assurjan demurred at once, acknowledging Crassius' offer with a shake of his head. "You are too kind, Councilor," he said. Though he spoke quietly, his deep voice carried easily through the room. "But we must be gone before sunrise, and so my time is limited. Shall we begin?"

"Of course," Crassius said, not quite able to hide his relief. Dram felt some of his own tension dissipate... Not all of it, though. "Let us sit down."  
_Seems pleasant enough,_ Dram thought, as they made their way toward the long table set in the center of the room. _But I'll bloody well wait until full daylight to leave Balmora, all the same. _The possibility of encountering the vampire as he walked the roads in the dark made him shiver.

Crassius would be at the head of the table, of course. Dram took the chair to Crassius' immediate right, and Nevena pointedly took the seat across from him. Her ally Velanda sat beside her. Assurjan took the chair at the other end of the table, across from Crassius. Though there were two open chairs, Raema remained standing, just behind the Ancient's right shoulder. Dram caught sight of a brief grimace on Yngling Half-Troll's face as he was left with no choice but a chair next to Assurjan. He took it without hesitating, though, knowing none of them could afford to show any fear.

Crassius took his own seat, and began making introductions. Dram listened to the pleasantries with only half an ear, eying their guests and his fellow Hlaalu, instead. Yngling, he noted with amusement, was so obviously _not_ looking at the vampire seated next to him that it was clear his attention was focused nowhere else.

Though he had been most worried about the vampire, it was the Hand that Dram found himself watching, intrigued. Raema kept her attention firmly on the discussion, allowing him to study her. The Bosmer's eyes were naturally dark, but there were shadows behind them that spoke of a different sort of darkness. Dram had seen that look before, in old fighters who'd seen so much death and violence in their lifetimes that it seemed to settle visibly within them. Raema looked far too young to have built up that much experience, but he supposed working for a vampire was hardly an easy job.

Something the Ancient said caught his interest, cutting into his musings over the Wood Elf. "...build something _new_," Assurjan was saying, in a quiet voice that nonetheless demanded the attention of everyone in the room. "Coexistence."

Silence fell as the Hlaalu leaders glanced at each other. Velanda Omani spoke first, a trace of nervous laughter in her voice. "Forgive me if I seem dubious, Ancient... But I find it difficult to believe that the mortal population can offer anything to make such an arrangement worthwhile for your vampires."

_Because you're not a predator,_ Dram thought, and was gratified to hear the vampire confirm his thoughts. Assurjan folded gloved fingers on the tabletop. "On the contrary, Councilor," he murmured. "Mortals can, and do, provide _everything_ we require. I offer you the chance to benefit from it."

Dram raised his brows, surprised that the Ancient would be so direct. When the implications of his words sank in, several Councilors burst out in protest, but Yngling's voice was loudest. "Surely you don't expect us to agree to- to what? To send our own people to be slaughtered at your hands?"

The Ancient raised an eyebrow at him, then swept the rest of the room's occupants with that disconcerting stare. "Have you no enemies?" He asked, and paused to let that be absorbed. "No criminals deserving of punishment? No one you would like to see... disappear?"

Dram took a sip of his schein, thoughts racing. Anyone at all that they wished to be rid of... send them to the vampires, and they would never be heard from again. _Dangerous, but bold. The sort of move that Hlaalu _must_ make if we are to advance ourselves._

Across the table, Nevena Ules' eyes narrowed. "An arrangement that benefits both sides, and yet it cannot be the only reason you are here. I assume you offer to limit your clan's hunting if we agree to provide food; but why would you do such a thing if there were no other benefits for you? What else do you want in return?"

"Tolerance," the vampire replied simply. "Non-aggression. See that we are left undisturbed by vampire hunters, the Temple, and the like. Provide us with... sustenance... of your own choosing, and we will have no need to take it for ourselves. House Hlaalu will be protected, allowed to travel without fear of Juraene clan."

"Food of our own choosing, you say," Dram noted. "Meaning, I suppose, that alternatively you'll take who you will, no matter if they are members of Hlaalu or not?"

"I do not threaten," Assurjan said mildly. "I do not wish to force House Hlaalu into an agreement; there will be no retaliation if you refuse my offer. Neither will there be any special protection for your people. My clan is growing, and in need of nourishment. Without a pledge of protection from House Hlaalu, I see no need to restrict my people's hunting."

"Trade rights, my lord Ancient," Crassius said suddenly, and all eyes in the room shifted to him. "If we are indeed to be allowed to travel in safety, it will open new areas for trade, will it not?"

The vampire inclined his head. "Juraene clan controls the wilderness of the Molag Amur region," he said. "From Bal Ur to Azura's Coast, from Telasero to the Grazelands- an area that was previously under the control of Berne clan. With safe passage granted _exclusively_ to House Hlaalu, you will have new ways of overland travel to Telvanni regions, faster than boats and not subject to the taxes of the Telvanni seaports or the Mages' Guild."

The councilors glanced at each other. Dram could almost hear the calculations beginning in their heads. Crassius, of course, had been trying for months to upset House Telvanni's trade monopoly in the northeast.

"And this Berne clan?" Nevena asked. "Suppose they take exception to our agreement?"

The corner of the vampire's mouth turned upwards, just a bit. "Their Ancient is dead, their few surviving vampires scattered and vulnerable, just as the other two clans. Juraene is the only vampire clan that remains whole, and in power. In time, there will be no vampires on Vvardenfell save those who are under my command."

More silent glances, as the councilors weighed this information. Crassius' eyes narrowed at the Ancient's claim, and Dram filed that detail away to wonder about later.

"What happened to the others?" Dram asked.

Assurjan fixed him with a pale-eyed, inscrutable look. "A complicated tale," he murmured. "Suffice to say that I have little patience for treachery." In the silence that followed the veiled warning, Assurjan spread his hands, giving a smile that, Dram noted, did not reveal any fangs. "It is a beginning, Councilors," he said. "Consider for as long as you like. I have some hours yet before we must depart."

From there, the meeting shifted into a negotiation of sorts, terms offered and rejected and discussed, while Crassius wrote down the occasional agreements on a sheet of parchment. It went on for a long time, until finally the vampire got to his feet, remarking that he must depart in order to reach shelter by dawn. The Hlaalu members also rose, determined to extend every outward courtesy no matter how inwardly reluctant they might be.

Yngling took the opportunity to go and fetch their visitors' cloaks. That left Velanda and Nevena standing closest to the Ancient; they gamely forced themselves into the sort of light conversation that any normal acquaintances might have, discussing the weather and other inanities. Crassius met Dram's eye, then shot a significant glance towards Raema.

"I hope you have a pleasant journey home, sera," Dram said, moving closer to the Bosmer woman. She eyed him flatly, as if gauging his sincerity. He went on, "The weather on the Bitter Coast can be unpredictable, this time of year."

"Thank you," she murmured, still eying him. It wasn't distrust, not quite, but she was definitely wary. "I'm sure we shall be fine, Councilor... Bero, wasn't it?"

He smiled and bowed, thinking better of embellishing the movement. She struck him as the sort that would not be easily impressed by showiness. "Yes, but I'd be honored if you addressed me as Dram. I imagine we shall be working closely together in the future. If I may ask, sera... how did you find yourself in the employ of the Ancient? It is hardly a... commonplace position."

"No," she said, smiling slightly, though that wariness in her eyes deepened. "I am..." she glanced at the Ancient, still engaged in conversation with the two Dunmer women. "In truth, I am a slave. One with a great deal more freedom than most, but a slave nonetheless."

_And not happy about it, _Dram guessed, if that glance at the vampire was any indication. "Ah," he breathed softly. "And there would be consequences for taking that freedom too far?"

Her eyes softened, not quite looking at anything, as if she were remembering something. Whatever it was, it made her shiver just a little. "Yes," she said simply.

Dram very carefully did not look in Crassius' direction. The Head Councilman was right... and if he were cautious, it might be possible to plant a seed here. He wished he knew more of what Crassius was planning. "So it would seem," he said softly, "that your best chance of freedom would be Juraene's downfall."

Raema's gaze sharpened on him, shrewd and intent, back from wherever her thoughts had gone. At the severity in that gaze he nearly flinched, afraid that he had made a grave error. "I am only thinking aloud," he added placatingly. "This alliance is important to House Hlaalu. I am sure you can imagine, we want to know as much as possible about our new partners, and their motivations."

"Some thoughts can be dangerous," she said flatly, holding his gaze. "Slave or not, I am loyal to Juraene clan and the Ancient."

"Of course," Dram said smoothly, as Yngling finally returned with the Hand's cloak. "And I am glad that our ally has such an honorable individual at his side. I'm sure you are aware of House Hlaalu's reputation- it's true that many of our members are loyal only to the highest bidder." She fastened her cloak about her shoulders as he added carefully, "Such arrangements can be beneficial, though... especially when there are things more precious than gold to offer."

Raema paused in the act of pulling up her hood to stare at him. He met the stare openly, knowing she understood, wondering what she would make of it.

Before she could respond, Crassius swooped in, looking as if he would put an arm about her shoulders, which was enough to make her move away, toward the door. A few more cordial pleasantries were exchanged, and then Raema slipped outside, checking for watchers before the vampire followed her.

The councilors breathed a collective sigh of relief when the door shut behind him. Nevena dropped back into her chair as if her legs were suddenly made of squib jelly.

Crassius Curio dabbed at his sweating forehead with a napkin from the table. "Well," he said cheerily, "That wasn't so bad, now, was it?"

Yngling shot him a glare. "_You _didn't have to sit next to the n'wah," he said sourly. "I could barely concentrate on the meeting, I was so busy waiting for him to reach over and snatch out my throat."

"Nonsense, Half-Troll- he was perfectly cordial with all of us. What do you think, Councilors?"

There was a long silence. "Can he be trusted?" Dram asked at length.

"I've worked with the Hand, Raema, for some time," Crassius said. "She has given me no reason to distrust her, her master or Juraene clan. In fact, she's... disappointingly honorable. "

Nevena gave an unladylike snort at his words, saving Dram the trouble of doing it himself. Easy enough to guess that Crassius had tried his charms on Raema, and been rebuffed. He felt his own respect for the Hand rise a bit more.

"Be that as it may," Crassius continued, turning a brief glare on Nevena, "A vampire may perhaps be honorable, but he is still a vampire- an undead monster who feeds on the living, and not someone the people of Vvardenfell are willing to tolerate."

"Which makes it so _sensible_ that you have agreed to an alliance with them," Velanda said dryly.

"Come now, my dear... We are House Hlaalu, are we not? We can find a profit in anything. Can no one see the way we might turn this to our advantage... _beyond_ the new trade routes?" Curio eyed each of them in turn.

They frowned at each other, and then Dram spoke quietly, making the connection before the others. "Juraene is the only clan remaining. If we were to play a part in their destruction..."

"-House Hlaalu's reputation would increase immeasurably," Crassius finished. A thoughtful silence fell over the room.

"Dangerous," Velanda said finally. "You heard what he said about treachery; he sent chills down my spine. If we try it and fail..."

"Leave that to me, my dear," Crassius smiled. "But for now, shall we agree to bide our time? I, for one, am eager to take advantage of those new trade routes as soon as possible. And I know _I _have a list of persons I wouldn't mind turning over to the vampires. Shall we go along, then, and learn what we might about their clan, their strengths and weaknesses? Gain a foothold in Telvanni territory? And later, if we decide to change our minds..."

The other councilors all murmured agreement; once again, Dram could almost see the thoughts racing behind each of their faces as they rose to adjourn. He made a show of taking his time, gathering his cloak and gloves slowly while the others left. After they had gone, Crassius beckoned Dram to take his seat at the table once again.

"So, this privileged information," Dram said. "What exactly are you hiding from the rest of the councilors?"

Crassius poured a few glasses of schein and brought them to the table as he took his seat. "I must admit," he began, "that the idea to rid Vvardenfell of vampires was not my own idea. I was approached by another, who has a great interest in seeing Juraene clan extinguished."

"And who is that?"

"A vampire named Volrina Quarra, an Ancient that Assurjan thinks is dead."

Dram nearly choked on his schein. "Are you mad, Crassius? What use is it to wipe out an entire vampire clan if we are only helping another into power?"

The other councilor held up his hands. "Now, now, don't rush to conclusions. She has given me her word-"

"The word of a vampire. Of course, I'm sure she's very trustworthy," Dram snapped.

Crassius leaned forward over the table. "Hear me out, Dram. Assurjan destroyed her clan; she's left alone, and she is weaker than he is. There are vampire hunters on the island; it'll be easy enough to point them in her direction when we no longer need her. But before we do that, she is eager to help us eradicate Juraene clan... _and_ she has the aid of a vampire with access inside the clan, as well."

Dram was silent for a long moment. "You _are_ mad," he said at last. "But... it might work."

With a smile of satisfaction, Crassius sat back in his chair and sipped at his mug of schein. Dram frowned into his mug, turning the idea over in his head.

"If we attempt this and fail, we make enemies of an entire clan. Your plan will have to be swift. They must all be taken down at once, so they have no time to _become_ enemies. And what of the other vampires the Ancient mentioned, the clanless ones? If we are to take credit for ridding Vvardenfell of vampires, we have more to consider than just Juraene clan."

"That was part of the agreement, was it not?" Crassius reminded him. "Ensuring that the clan is left undisturbed? There are vampire hunters about. So we shall pay one of them to hunt the others down and leave Juraene alone."

Dram blinked as the ramifications of that sank in. "Both fulfilling our promise and preparing to wipe them out all together," he murmured thoughtfully. "I like the way you think."

"Of course you do," Crassius chuckled. "Would you like to take care of it?"

Dram leaned back in his chair, downing the last of his drink. "I know just the man."

The night was cool, the air clear- a welcome change after the stuffy atmosphere inside the Hlaalu Council manor. Stars still sparkled overhead, but they were fading into a pale glow in the east. They had made it out of Balmora without being seen, fortunately; the councilors had been very clear in their wish to keep the alliance secret. It wouldn't do to let themselves be caught in the town just after the meeting.

Raema cast a sideways glance at Assurjan, striding next to her; he was just barely visible as a flowing shadow in the darkness. The meeting had gone better than she'd anticipated. Of all the traits Assurjan bore, she'd never guessed that diplomacy was one of them.

He kept his eyes fixed on the path ahead as they walked, and Raema stifled a sigh. She had not traveled with him like this since the night he first brought her to Juraene clan's lair... but she had to imagine that if things were different, they might have spent the journey in easy conversation. Even _uneasy_ conversation would have been better than the stony silence that lay between them now. She had meant what she'd said to him, that morning after her cure, but she hadn't realized just how awkward things would become after she said it. She could find no trace of familiarity in his manner, any more... he treated her with a cool, business-like formality that belied everything that had happened between them.

_That's what you wanted, isn't it?_ Asked a cynical voice in her head, and she scowled. She had wanted to protect herself, protect her trust from another betrayal...

But she hadn't wanted isolation. She hadn't wanted him to retreat so far from her that she could no longer reach him.

_And what did you expect him to do?_ The voice replied. _You said you wanted nothing to do with him, after he only did what was necessary to save your life. Did you truly expect him to accept that and yet treat you no differently?_

Biting her lip, Raema shoved the voice away and forced herself to focus on watching for danger, refusing to think about it any longer.

Gray, pre-dawn light was just beginning to illuminate the path as they approached their shelter for the day- the same cave that they had used on her first journey to Juraene clan. It had become one of several shelters that the clan maintained around the island, places where the vampires could safely wait out the day when they found themselves too far from the lair. Assurjan strode up the hill to the cavern entrance, slipping a key from his sleeve.

"There is still some time before full daylight," he said quietly, glancing over his shoulder at her. In his voice, she could hear the faint, grating echoes that signaled a growing hunger. "Time enough for me to hunt. I shall return soon."

Raema had wondered if this would happen; he hadn't fed since they left Telasero, two nights ago. She shook her head. "It is too near dawn, my lord," she said, surprised at how steady her own voice sounded. "I... I am here, and you needn't endanger yourself to feed from me."

Assurjan turned to face her, his eyes glimmering faintly, one eyebrow raised. Raema swallowed, hard. Being drained of her strength was not an experience she was eager to repeat.

"I will not ask this of you, Hand," he said calmly. "I know you are not truly willing."

She took a deep, shaky breath. "Better me, my lord, than any innocent traveler you will find to prey upon."

"Do you think so?" Assurjan asked in a near-whisper. His eyes closed briefly; when he opened them, their hungry glow had become a blazing, ethereal fire. "Do not tempt me, Raema," he hissed, in a voice fractured by need. "I thirst for blood tonight, not power... and not enough flows in your veins to sate me."

The words were frightening, but it was not fear that made her heart start fluttering wildly. Under the hungry layers in his voice, she heard more feeling than he had directed towards her in weeks. _And he hasn't called me by my name in so long..._

He held her with his burning gaze for a long moment, and then he was gone, faded into the darkness as if he had never been there.

Muttering a curse, not sure who she was angry at, Raema shoved open the cavern's door and went in search of a light.

When she had found and lit the few candles they had left the day before, she sat cross-legged on her bedroll, unwilling to sleep until the Ancient had returned. _And he'd _better _return,_ she thought crossly, telling herself she was _not_ worried for him. _I do not want to go looking for him if he doesn't return by sunrise._

Shaking her head ruefully at herself, she pulled her sword from its scabbard to tend it while she waited.

It wasn't long before she felt him returning to the cave. She could sense his presence now, if he were close enough- a residual effect of her time as a vampire. He had been gone only a few minutes, it seemed. She wondered who he had found to feed himself in such a short time, then decided she didn't want to know. While he might be willing to leave his prey alive after he fed on their strength, she knew a blood feeding would leave nothing but an empty corpse behind. The thought didn't bother her as much as it once had, she realized with regret.

He moved through the cave with the animal grace that she knew so well, and settled down cross-legged across from her. Surprised, she set aside her sword and the stone she'd been sharpening it with.

"We have a lesson to continue," Assurjan said.

Raema blinked. "Now?" She had hoped to have some time to spend outside, enjoying the sunlight while he sheltered inside the cave.

He raised an eyebrow. "We have more than nine hours before sunset," he pointed out. "Did you plan to sleep the entire day?"

Raema huffed out a sharp breath. _If only I _could_ sleep,_ she thought. The lifting of her vampire curse had not yet eased the nightmares that plagued her sleep; it was still so bad that she'd begun to dread dozing off. Despite that, she wasn't sure that Assurjan's insistence on teaching her Destruction was preferable.

"No, my lord," she murmured. "Where should I begin?"

"Fire," he told her, like always. "The manifestation only."

Resigned, Raema took a deep breath and turned her focus inward, drawing up the image she associated with the fire spell. Her lips and fingers moved, soundlessly giving shape to the words and signs of the spell. A spark of flame snapped into existence before her, then winked out just as suddenly, leaving a puff of smoke hanging in the air between her and Assurjan. She muttered a curse.

"Again," the Ancient said calmly. Scowling, Raema tried again, with the same results. He had only begun teaching her a few weeks ago, but each lesson was more frustrating than the last. She had no talent for the Destruction school of magic, but, for some reason she was unable to fathom, Assurjan was determined that she should learn. She'd never been able to manifest the fire spell for longer than an instant. Assurjan was patient with her, never rebuking her for her failures, and that was just as frustrating- Even her complete ineptitude for sorcery was not enough to break the carefully expressionless mask he wore now.

_Still_, she thought wryly, _he said my name earlier. That has to be a good sign._ A third failed flame left another plume of smoke between them.

Abruptly, Assurjan leaned forward to catch her hand in his, and Raema's heart lurched into her throat. His black leather glove was cool against her skin as he adjusted the positioning of her fingers slightly. Did he linger there longer than necessary, or was he only confirming the adjustment he'd made? He pulled back before she could decide.

"Again," he repeated. Swallowing hard, Raema reached again for the mental image of the fire spell- and found only a memory of that same hand, ungloved, sliding over her bare skin in an intimate caress.

_Idiot, _she snapped at herself, realizing that his waiting gaze was still on her. _You're acting like a lovesick child. Concentrate!_ With an effort, she pushed the memory away, and a fiery sphere flared into being before her, hovering there for a heartbeat before disappearing in a miniature explosion.

"Better," Assurjan allowed, appearing unfazed by the small blast.

Gritting her teeth, Raema waved away the resulting smoke. "Again, my lord?"

The Ancient eyed her briefly, then shook his head. "Not yet. You are likely to kill us both with anything more than that, uncontrolled. Clear your thoughts before you try again."

Raema let her hands drop to her lap, struggling to follow his advice. Her concentration had been elusive lately. If it wasn't the nightmares that disrupted it, it was thoughts of Assurjan... and things were no better now, not with him sitting an arm's length away. Silence fell in the cave, suddenly awkward, and she found herself casting about for something to say, something to fill that silence.

"Did you mean what you said to the Hlaalu, my lord?" she asked, the first question that came to her mind. "About coexisting with them?"

His brows twitched at the change in subject, but he answered easily enough. "I did. Juraene clan is still weak. We need allies, and both I and House Hlaalu have something to offer the other. It will be better to work with one ally in secret, rather than alone, when every other faction on Vvardenfell that opposes us."

"If we succeed," Raema said. She had to agree that the Ancient had a point, but she wasn't entirely certain that they would be able to maintain good relations with the House. Something would go wrong, she was sure. One of the vampires would kill an off-limits Hlaalu member, or...

"If we succeed," Assurjan agreed. He fixed her with a calm stare, ending the discussion. "Now. Try again."

Holding in a sigh, Raema raised her hands again._ Even the nightmares are starting to sound better than these interminable lessons_, she thought, but she obeyed.


	3. Chapter 3

Blood and Choice

Chapter 3

As always, Telasero's blocky silhouette reared up out of the night with startling suddenness, as soon as they passed through the rocky Molag Amur ground and into the open space around the stronghold. Raema eyed the structure as they approached, surprised by the feeling of homecoming that stole over her. For better or worse, the ancient stronghold _was_ home, and she was not used to the feeling.

Musing over that, she mounted the steps at Assurjan's side, and they entered the fortress' single entrance. The long entry corridor was lit, as always, by the blood-red candles that the Sixth House cult had left behind. They threw wavering shadows against the walls to either side. Talintus was waiting at the end of the corridor, his steel armor glinting in the shaky light.

"My lord Ancient; Raema," the old soldier greeted them gruffly, with a rough bow. "There are visitors. They arrived not a quarter of an hour ago." He nodded over his shoulder, toward the vast, open space of the audience chamber at the far end of the corridor. "It's the Redguard hunter. And... he has Silweyn with him, my lord," he added, with a swift glance in Raema's direction.

Raema felt her heart sink. A large part of her had hoped her old teacher had found a way to the mainland, out of Juraene clan's reach. She had no illusions that the Bosmer vampire was innocent, but she knew Silweyn had been acting out of desperation when she'd betrayed the Ancient.

It didn't excuse what she had done... But Raema was sure she did not want to witness whatever Assurjan would do to exact justice. A memory of Korren, shriveling and dying in a room full of watching vampires, forced its way into her mind. The Nord vampire had challenged the authority Raema was given over the clan, and Assurjan had executed him for it, drained him to his death without ever laying a hand on him. It was not a sight Raema was eager to see again.

Assurjan did not reply immediately, but she sensed a change in him; he shifted slightly at her side, and his expression hardened. Over Talintus' shoulder, Raema could see two figures standing on the raised dais in the center of the audience chamber. Below them, several vampires had gathered around the floor of the chamber, waiting with that eerie, undead stillness.

"Send for the others," Assurjan said finally. "I would have them witness her return."

"Aye, my lord," Talintus said, striding away. The Ancient gestured to Raema, and she fell into step behind him. He strode through the audience chamber to the side passage that led deeper into Telasero. There, in the shadows, they waited.

"What are you going to do with her, my lord?" Raema asked quietly.

He did not look at her, staring into the chamber with a slight frown, deep in thought. "I intend to make an example of her," he said, so softly that she could hardly hear him. It sent a chill down her spine, and she fell silent.

Soon, the other members of the clan began to arrive, murmuring greetings to the Ancient as they passed him, filing through the archway. As the last of them appeared with Talintus, Assurjan gestured for Raema to follow him. Steeling herself against what was to come, trying to push memories of Korren from her mind, she followed the Ancient up to the dais that overlooked the room.

He climbed the stairs at a measured pace, and the crowd below fell still, silent as death, as he stepped into view. Raema stayed in the shadows, one step behind the Ancient's right shoulder, and folded her hands behind her back.

On the platform below, Talintus strode up to take a place next to the shadowy figure that had to be Silweyn. Jole bowed when he caught sight of the Ancient. "Good evening, my lord Ancient," he called, his voice carrying clearly through the chamber. "As you can see, I've brought one of your fugitives." He grasped Silweyn's elbow and urged her forward.

The vampire took a limping step forward into the light, and Raema bit back a startled curse. Silweyn had evidently not fared well since fleeing Telasero. Her fair hair hung in tangles about her face; her skin and ragged clothing were soiled by dirt, grime, and what looked like dried blood. She was frail, as if she had not been feeding enough, and she looked up at the dais with eyes that appeared bruised and sunken, staring out with a dull glow of hunger. She looked away quickly when Raema met her gaze.

No one spoke. In the stillness, Raema had to fight the urge to hold her breath, the instinct to keep the sound of her breathing from destroying that perfect silence. Talintus gripped his sword hilt, tensing, as if he expected a command to slay Silweyn where she stood.

"You have my thanks, Ser Devan, and that of Juraene clan," Assurjan said at last. "I believe I promised a payment of triple your customary fee. Is that not correct?"

Jole nodded. "Yes, my lord."

"You shall have it." Raema could see Silweyn cringe when the Ancient's gaze fell on her. "And you, Silweyn. You conspired with our enemies to destroy me, and the rest of Juraene clan. Do you deny it?"

The Bosmer kept her eyes downcast, answering in a dull voice. "No, my lord."

"Tell me," Assurjan continued, "what did Raxle Berne say to convince you?"

"He said..." Silweyn's voice trailed off, and Talintus prodded her roughly. "He said that the Hand was dead, and that you would lead the rest of us into death as well... but he only wanted you, not us. If we- if we captured you, he would let us go."

"And yet, here we are," Assurjan replied, almost conversationally. "The Hand is alive, and Berne is not. You betrayed me, and yet here you are, _my _captive."

Silweyn looked up then, a flat, numb look in her eyes. "I made a gamble, my lord, and I lost. I know it."

"This is not a game," Assurjan said softly, his voice gone low and dangerous. "And the lives of my people are not to be gambled with." He took a step closer to the edge of the dais, addressing the gathered clan members. "This vampire conspired to destroy all of us. It is only fitting, then, that the entire clan be permitted to punish her. Talintus..."

The Imperial raised his chin. "Yes, my lord?"

"Leave her restrained and put her with the cattle. She shall be available to any who hunger for Bosmer blood."

_Oh, gods..._ Raema shuddered, glad that she was still half-hidden in the shadows, where none could see her expression. Silweyn blanched at Assurjan's words, and even Jole looked a bit disturbed at the pronouncement.

"As you wish, my lord," Talintus said with a bow, and took Silweyn's arm. The Bosmer hobbled away, while the room remained silent, watching her go. In the dimness, Raema could see the hungriest pairs of eyes beginning to glow as they tracked her progress through the room. Feeling sickened, she pulled her gaze away.

When Silweyn was out of sight, Assurjan addressed Jole once more. "You have my gratitude, Ser Devan. The Hand shall see to your recompense." Nodding to Raema, he turned and descended the stairs. Jole met her eyes from the platform, looking unusually serious. With a sigh, Raema turned away to go fetch his payment.

Her friend met her in the hall, and followed her into the antechamber that doubled as Assurjan's library. "Bloody Oblivion," he muttered, by way of greeting. "I'd been expecting something more like a clean death for her."

Raema only shook her head, still too shaken by Assurjan's decision to comment on it. She went to the small chest that rested on one shelf to get his payment. "I'm glad you came, anyway," she told him, counting out the coins. "I was looking for you a few nights ago, but I suppose you were out...hunting."

Jole gave her a sharp look; she could feel his eyes on her even without looking up from the chest. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," she said carefully. "Why?"

Jole didn't answer, and when she finally looked up, he was regarding her flatly, dark eyes knowing. "How is Assurjan?" He asked, after a moment.

Raema hesitated. "Fine. Busy. Some new spell or other that he's trying to develop."

She got the sense that somehow, her answer told him more than what she had said. He took the handful of coins she held out, and did not count them, trusting her. "And you?"

"I'm fine."

Jole tucked the coins away and looked at her sternly. "Guarscat," he said firmly. "Don't lie to me, Raema, I know you too well. What has he done?"

"Nothing," Raema insisted. _That's the problem._ "He's...I don't know. Distant. We worked well together, before... Before everything. Now, it's just... awkward."

She could practically read the _I told you so_ in his expression. "Ridiculous, isn't it?" he said softly, bringing back another memory... a memory of him, eying her over a campfire in a cave on the edge of the Grazelands. _The most ridiculous thing I've seen you do. Vampires don't love, Raema._

"You're no help at all, you know that?" she asked crossly.

He shrugged. "At least I'm honest with you," he pointed out. "Which is more than you can say for yourself."

Unexpectedly, a lump filled her throat. Was he right after all? Was she deceiving herself, had she done so all this time?

_I don't love him,_ she told herself once more, with an impatient shake of her head. "How is business?" she asked, to change the subject.

Jole rolled his eyes at her evasion, but mercifully he went along with it. "Very good," he said with another grin. "Nearly more business than I know what to do with. The Ancients' deaths were one of the best things that could have happened. Now that they're gone, their remaining vampires are causing trouble much more openly... and everyone is willing to pay well to get rid of them. You should come with me, you know. I could always use some backup, and I trust you at my back more than anyone else."

A flush of warmth filled her at his praise. And, she had to admit, some time away from Juraene clan- and from Assurjan-sounded wonderful. "I would love to accept the offer," she said. "But it's not my decision, you know that."

He grew more serious then, and hesitated, looking at her for a long moment. "It could be yours," he said quietly. "I kill vampires for a living, Raema. You know, _you_ are the only reason I haven't yet-"

"No!" She blurted, louder than she'd intended. "Bloody Oblivion, Jole..."A knot of cold fear tightened in her chest at his words... but there was the tiniest thrill, too. The thought of freedom, so long out of reach, undeniably made her heart skip a beat. "No," she said again, softer, but just as firmly.

He shrugged, flashing his brilliant grin. "Alright," he conceded easily. "But in that case, maybe I can ask permission to borrow you, sometime."

Raema made herself smile back, trying to hide the emotions roiling in her head. "I'd like that... But we split the pay evenly."

Jole made a pained sound in his throat. "Expensive s'wit," he grumbled, making her smile turn genuine. "I'll see you again soon. Be safe, Raema."

"You do the same," she said, walking him to the door.

"Someone's been looking for you," Raril grunted, setting down a glass of mazte.

Jole slid a gold coin across the counter and took the glass. "Looking for me, huh? Good or bad?" He asked cautiously, taking a long drought of the drink. Business had been good lately, with all the leader-less vampires to hunt down, but Favela Dralor's husband had been none too pleased when word of her affair with the hunter got out. Rumor had it (straight from Raril himself) that Lord Dralor was minded to send the Assassin's Guild after the Redguard who shared his wife's bed. In fact, Jole had been about to leave the city for a while; he'd heard reports of a vampire sighted near Ald-ruhn, and it might be a good idea to get away from the Lady Dralor for a time.

The Dunmer barkeep rolled his eyes. "The Morag Tong would be a little more subtle than that, don't you think?"

"I hope not," Jole muttered. "Who was it, then?"

Raril tilted his head toward a table across the tavern, where a plain-looking Dark Elf sat with his back to the corner, watching the entire room. His gaze was already on Jole when he turned to look, and the hunter blinked. The Dunmer's scarlet gaze was direct and appraising; the man knew who he was looking at. "He's with House Hlaalu, or so he said," the tavern keeper said. "Not one I've seen around before."

"Huh." Jole downed the rest of his glass and pushed away from the bar, making for the table. The Dunmer did not move, fixing an inscrutable stare on him as he approached.

Jole gave the man his best, most charming smile, the one reserved for potential clients and second only to the one for potential lady friends. "Jole Devan, at your service, ser," he said, giving him a sweeping bow. "You were looking for me?"

The Elf inclined his head, gesturing at the chair across from him. "Dram Bero, of House Hlaalu," he replied. Please, sit down."

Jole blinked. He knew Bero by reputation only, the least-known and most mysterious Councilor of the House. 

Ignoring the chair Bero had indicated, Jole took a seat beside the man instead, angling himself to watch the rest of the room. "Your pardon, ser," he said, still smiling. "Life is dangerous enough without turning my back to a room when there might be a price on my head."

"Of course," Bero murmured, shifting slightly to face him. Was there a bit of approval in his voice? _Happy to see I'm smart enough to watch my own back, I suppose. So _this_ is the elusive Dram Bero? Why is he meeting me in a tavern, in plain sight?_

Bero's eyes did not settle, seeming to dart restlessly around the room, only occasionally glancing at Jole. There was no nervousness in it, though, only a calm alertness. "You have quite a reputation around the city. You're a vampire hunter, are you not?"

"Of sorts," Jole said wryly. "Have a vampire problem?"

"Of sorts," Bero echoed, a hint of humor in his tone. "What is your usual fee for a kill, Ser Devan?"

Jole named a sum, a little higher than usual, watching carefully. The Hlaalu didn't balk.

"And you will take any vampire for this fee?"

"Well. Some vampires require more work than others. Ancients, in particular, are tougher to take down," he pointed out. "My fees would be considerably higher." _Especially since my best friend works for the only one left on Vvardenfell._

"I see," Bero murmured. "House Hlaalu will pay you triple that amount for every vampire you destroy, if you will leave Juraene clan undisturbed."

Jole leaned back in his chair, more startled than he cared to admit. "Oh, really? And why would you offer such a thing, ser?"

The Dunmer smiled slightly. "We have our reasons. This is not an exclusive agreement. If another party hires you for a kill, we will still pay you the agreed amount, regardless of your other client's fee- so long as you hunt no members of Juraene clan."

Jole stared at him, thinking. As far as he knew, no one outside of the clan knew of his friendship with Raema, or his uneasy truce with Assurjan. It was almost too good to be true- triple his fee, for something that he would have done regardless...

"Does this restriction apply to any vampires of Juraene blood, or only those who are current members of the clan? Because several of them have been cast out for betrayal, and I've already been offered a tripled fee for their capture."

The Dunmer frowned. "Betrayal? How do you know that?"

"It's my job to know," Jole said easily. "Keeps me alive. And I find it odd," he added, "that someone would make such a specific request to spare so many vampires. What is House Hlaalu's interest in Juraene clan?"

Bero's face went carefully blank. "Perhaps it is best if you do not know."

"Perhaps," Jole murmured. _Though I doubt it. _"How long will this agreement last?"

"Until further notice," Bero replied. "Or until you decide it is no longer worth it."

Jole drummed his fingertips on the table, thinking. Though he had as much as promised Raema and Assurjan that he would leave their vampires alone, House Hlaalu couldn't possibly know it. He had a reputation to uphold, and so he said, "Triple is enough, for now. But as soon as you change your mind, let me know. I don't like leaving unfinished business, and I don't want some Juraene vampire coming after me because I let it live too long."

"Agreed," Bero said, and Jole grinned.

"Excellent," he said, waving at Raril to bring more drinks. "Shall we share a drink to seal the deal?"

"Another time, perhaps," Bero said, sliding a pouch of coins across the table. "I assume this will be enough to cover your expenses for an immediate start?"

Jole hefted the pouch; it was full and heavy, likely two hundred, perhaps two hundred fifty septims. "Indeed, ser."

As Raril approached with two glasses of mazte in hand, Bero rose to his feet, giving him a little bow. "We'll be in touch," he said. "Good hunting." As he left the tavern, Raril set the two glasses down at Jole's elbow.

"Well?" The Dunmer tavern keeper asked. "Good or bad?"

Jole chuckled, the thought of triple income making him grin. "Good, my friend," he said, reaching for a glass. "Very, very good."


	4. Chapter 4

Blood and Choice

Chapter 4

She slept on the little pallet she had set up outside his chamber, her dark hair in disarray, a tiny frown creasing her brow. Assurjan paused, looking down at her sadly. This was the only time he could look at her openly, it seemed, without seeing in her eyes the shadows of what lay ruined between them. Whatever once might have been was gone, and that knowledge ate at him, forced him to wonder if he had chosen wrongly.

_She made her wishes clear_, he told himself, as he had done innumerable times. _You saved her, and lost her, all at once. _But he knew, as he had always known, that he would not have chosen anything different. If he had allowed Berne to claim her, all would have been lost- Raema, the clan, himself. He had chosen the better of two bad options, and yet it seemed he had still lost her, sacrificed their fledgling relationship for the good of his clan.

_Let her go_, whispered an inner voice. _She is not happy. You have already lost her; why do you cling to her so desperately? The more her forced servitude grates at her, the more bitter she will become. Let her go, while she can still have a measure of gratitude for it._

It made sense, he had to concede, as she shifted slightly in her sleep, her frown deepening. With the threat of the other clans removed, Juraene was in a much stronger position, now... Surely he could afford to do without her aid.

But the thought of losing her completely sent a chill through him. Back before the battle with Berne clan, his days had been fraught with the fear that she was dead, with the knowledge that he _didn't _know where she was. He had no wish to endure that once again.

_Do vampires love, Assurjan?_ Her voice asked softly in his memory.

At his feet, she shifted again, letting out a moan. "No..."

Assurjan winced. Though she never spoke of it, he knew she was still plagued by nightmares, like all vampires. But since she was no longer undead, she could not go without sleep in an attempt to avoid them. He well knew what horrific visions she saw in her dreams, and did not envy her. More than once, he had left his chambers to find her sitting upright on her bedroll, dark eyes haunted by the nightmares that had kept her awake.

_She suffers_, he thought to himself, as she twitched in her sleep, moaning again. _And she likely will continue to suffer, as long as she remains here. Let her go_.

He took a step forward, with the half-formed intention of kneeling at her side and waking her before the dream grew worse.

"Assurjan..." she breathed, still asleep, and he froze, staring at her. She tossed her head restlessly, hands twisting fistfuls of the blanket, and Assurjan stepped back. _She will not welcome my intrusion_, he realized. When she was dreaming of _him, w_hat use was it to wake her from one nightmare into another?

"I am sorry, Raema," he said softly. She did not respond, and he turned away, walking silently back the way he had come. Anger flared unexpectedly, for he knew what must be done to ease her suffering, and he could not bring himself to do it. He felt the hunger stirring in him, reacting to the fury that was rising, channeling it. Fists clenched, he left his chambers and went in search of Talintus. He could not save Raema from the nightmare that was himself, but neither would he leave her to suffer it alone.

_Eyes glowed all around them, hungry eyes, and not all of them belonged to vampires. Some, she knew with a bone-deep certainty, were much worse. Assurjan bent over his worktable, engrossed in some spell, oblivious to the crowd of eyes that was slowly closing in, bringing the darkness closer with them._

_ "No," Raema whispered, drawing her sword. It was heavy, as if someone had replaced her lightweight silver blade with ebony. "Assurjan..."_

_ He did not look up, only glanced from one book to another, as if he had not heard her. The darkness and the eyes continued to close in, and Raema glanced about wildly, knowing she could not defend Assurjan from all sides, if he would not help to defend himself. "Assurjan, please!"_

_ He still did not respond, as if neither she nor the dangerous shadows around them truly existed. "Curse it," she hissed, struggling to lift the ridiculously heavy sword. _

_ Behind her, a shadow flashed through the little circle of candlelight, and she whirled, catching only a glimpse from the corner of her eye. As she turned, another came from her other side, flickering in and out of visibility like a darting cliff racer. She was ready for the third one and swung wildly at it, the heavy sword slow in her arms. She missed completely, and threw all her strength behind a second swing at the next rushing shadow._

_ To her surprise, the blade bit into the shadow as if the attacker were truly solid; she had expected them to be less substantial, like ghosts. But her triumph was short-lived as the darkness seemed to seize the sword, twisting it in her grip. Before she could wrest it free, the shadow had turned it and thrust it back at her, while she still clung desperately to the hilt._

_ The blade slipped past her and sank hilt-deep into Assurjan's chest._

_ Raema let out a cry, horrified, and let go, covering her mouth with her hands. "No!"_

_ Blood began to ooze sluggishly from around the wound, soaking slowly through his shirt in a glistening stain. He did look up at her then, pale eyes unsurprised, only pained and sad. "Raema," he said in a rough voice, while the shadows swirled around them. Raema could only stare in horrified shock as he slumped forward, no longer undead, but truly dead at her hands. _

_ "Raema..."_

"Raema!"

She jerked awake, heart pounding frantically. It took her a moment to recognize Talintus' voice.

"Gods," she gasped out. "You... you startled me."

The grizzled old Imperial vampire gave her a hard look, and she wondered how obvious her nightmare had been. "Sorry to wake you," he said gruffly. "The Ancient sent for you. He wishes for you to meet him in the library."  
"I'll be right there," Raema managed, pushing herself upright. Talintus gave her a concerned look; she waved him away. "I'm fine," she reassured him. "Go on."

Talintus grunted wordlessly and turned to leave. Raema dropped her head into her hands and drew in a shuddering breath as the memory of the nightmare receded. _Gods help me, that was one of the worst ones yet,_ she thought. The memory of Assurjan's eyes, betrayed and hurt, above her own sword plunged deep into his chest... She swallowed hard, hoping that that image would fade from memory sooner rather than later. She thought back guiltily to Dram Bero's words in Balmora, to Jole's hinted offer. Had they triggered thoughts of betraying Assurjan, spurred that nightmare?

Grimacing, she rubbed at her eyes- and realized she had been crying. No wonder Talintus hadn't believed she was all right. She dried her cheeks impatiently on her sleeve, picked up her sword and went to find Assurjan.

The library collection had not yet been restored to its former glory since they had taken Telasero for their own, but they had made progress. The antechamber to Assurjan's room now held a chair for the Ancient, and a few bookshelves, mostly full- one of her recent assignments had been to help him rebuild his collection after their flight from the old lair. The Sixth House's scarlet candles had been replaced by hanging lanterns, filling the room with a brighter, more natural light.

Raema made her way to a bookshelf, running her fingertips over the leather spines. They were mostly sorcery books, research volumes that Assurjan consulted from time to time, but there were a few fictional stories as well, and they were always soothing, tales of adventure and love, where everything seemed to turn out for the best in the end-

"Raema."

His voice made her jump; she hadn't heard the Ancient enter. Turning, her heart pounding, she saw him standing in the doorway, with one brow raised. "You are... well?" It came out rather stiffly, but at least he'd said her name again, rather than just addressing her as _Hand_. Raema frowned, wondering if _he _had witnessed her nightmare, as well.

"Of course, my lord," she said, wondering if he could sense the lie.

Assurjan only nodded once. "Bring a slave."  
She blinked. "Already?" _Surely he hasn't grown hungry enough so soon?_ She did not pay close attention to his hunger, though she generally had a good idea of when he would need to feed. She hadn't expected a request for the cattle for another day, at least. He could, and often did, go several days without feeding. _Unless he's overtaxed himself with this new spell,_ she thought, and admitted it was possible. Though always before he had allowed her to be present as he worked, lately he had taken to shutting her out. She had no idea of his current project, or how much it might be draining him.

He fixed her with a wordless stare, eying her with the unnerving stillness that she had never quite grown comfortable with.

"At once, my lord," she said, holding back a sigh, and hurried away.

Most of the stronghold had been restored like the library, in the months that Juraene clan had occupied it; enough so that Raema could almost forget that it was inhabited by the undead. The vast entry hall used for an audience chamber, however, had been left as they'd found it. Assurjan had given no explanation, but Raema guessed it was done to intimidate the rare guests that the clan received. As she entered the enormous room, she was struck, as she always was, by how foreboding it seemed. The few blood-red candles, burning in scattered clusters, were not bright enough to light the entire chamber. A few pockets of dim, red light flickered at different levels, on the stairs and the raised platforms, but none shed enough illumination to reach the ceiling far overhead.

Hunching her shoulders against the vast, dark space above, Raema hurried to the chambers beneath the main entrance, where the cattle were kept. The cave had been dug into the ground long ago, likely in an attempt to expand the fortress, but the project had apparently been stopped when the diggers hit an underground lava flow. Some of the boiling rock still oozed into a pool at the back of the cavern, rendering it uncomfortably hot. She tried to see it as a kindness to the slaves, who often suffered chills after losing too much blood.

The slaves were huddled shapes in the dimness. There was one slim, light-haired elf in the back of the cave, chained to the wall; Raema caught a glimpse of Silweyn's eyes gleaming dully, before the vampire looked away.

_Gods, I hate this,_ Raema thought, standing in the doorway and trying not to meet the slaves' dead eyes. They avoided hers, too, as they hunched themselves into the darkness, trying to escape her notice. They knew why she was there. _It can't be helped_, she thought hollowly. pointing at one of the few who seemed the most alert. _He has to feed_. Unhappily, she led the Imperial man back to Assurjan's chambers.

At his muffled response to her knock, she ushered the slave through the door, where he dropped to his knees. The Ancient was at his desk, bent over an unrolled scroll. Without looking up, he raised a hand and beckoned. Reluctantly, Raema nudged the slave, and he went to Assurjan's side. Almost absentmindedly, Assurjan gripped the man's shoulder, a pale violet light glowing around his hand as he fed. The man wavered on his feet, and Raema grimaced sympathetically, hoping that Assurjan would restrain his feeding.

He did, letting the man go after a moment. The Imperial stepped away, shuddering and bent over, hands on his knees. Assurjan scribbled something on the scroll, still without looking up.

Raema moved to pull the man up and take him away, but paused when Assurjan held up a hand. "Wait."

Frowning, Raema watched as Assurjan laid his hand on the slave a second time.

_What is he doing?_ She wondered, watching as the Ancient's hand began to glow again with magicka. The Imperial slave trembled, head bowed; then his body jerked stiffly upright, and his eyes shot open wide in shock. Raema stared, her head roiling with awareness of the power that Assurjan was wielding. It was akin to the sense of his proximity that she had retained after her return to the living... as if the spell he was working, whatever it was, had increased it tenfold. He had cast magic near her before, but this had never happened. She didn't believe she'd _ever _witnessed him display that much power_._

The Imperial's head suddenly snapped back, and the man let out a cry as the light from Assurjan's hand grew blindingly bright. Then the Imperial slumped bonelessly to the ground at Assurjan's feet as the light winked out.

Assurjan stood with head bowed, chest heaving. Vampires did not need to breathe; if the Ancient had reverted to the unnecessary habit of gasping for air, it was a sure sign of how far he had exerted himself. For a long moment, there was no sound in the room but the quiet rasping of his breath. Raema blinked repeatedly, trying to squint away the spots in her vision.

"Gods," she finally managed to say, crossing the room and kneeling beside the fallen slave. She rolled the man over to reveal a face that was startlingly... _healthy_. Despite having fed the Ancient just moments before, the Imperial looked better than any of the slaves had ever looked- except that he was dead. "What did you do to him, Assurjan?"

He crouched on the other side of the body, frowning slightly as he gazed down at the slave. "I have learned that this spell requires more work," he answered shortly, sounding a bit disgusted.

Raema cursed, and the anger in her voice made him glance up at her. "You killed him for a _test_?" She demanded, incredulous.

He gazed back at her calmly. "Should I have waited until the heat of battle, when the lives of my clan would be at stake, to discover that it does not work? Or should I have tested it on a member of the clan, instead?"

"Bloody Oblivion," she snapped. She jumped to her feet to put some distance between them before she did something foolish, like attempt to strike him. She would only anger him if she tried that; sometimes she forgot that she no longer had the same speed and strength she'd enjoyed as a vampire. "What are you trying to do?"

Assurjan ran his hands over the man's skin, examining the body. "Now that Berandise is gone, we are vulnerable without a healer in the clan," he reminded her. "If a vampire is injured too severely to feed and heal itself, it will die. Nor do we have any spellcaster with Restoration skill enough to begin to learn healing."

Raema frowned. "Including you," she pointed out. "And I hardly think that Destruction will be a good starting point for..." He looked up at her wordlessly, and her voice trailed off as she remembered that he, like all vampires, had another power. She remembered the pale light that had glowed around the slave, and with a shock, realized exactly what he had attempted to do.

"Gods," she murmured again, glancing down at the Imperial. "You were... _you_ were feeding _him_?"

He nodded once, rising to his feet. "It is easy for us to over-feed, to take more power than necessary. If I can channel the excess, give it to someone who needs it...As you can see, it will heal, but uncontrolled, it will kill."

Raema shivered at the thought. _Reverse vampirism_, she mused. _Gods help us. _She stared down at the fallen slave, and felt a wave of guilt crash over her. She had chosen him for this fate, unwitting or not. Vivec only knew how he had come to be one of Juraene clan's cattle, but no one deserved the end he'd just met.

"I'll... take care of this, if you're finished," she said quietly, and Assurjan nodded before turning back to his desk to write a few notes. Grimly, Raema crouched and hooked her hands under the slave's arms, dragging him toward the door. As Assurjan's second-in-command, she could have directed some of the vampires to do it, but she made herself take the chore. _I brought him here, to his death. I'll see that he's taken care of, myself._

When she had disposed of the body, she returned to Assurjan's room. He was once again seated at his desk, writing on the scroll in his graceful, flowing hand; notes on the failed attempt at his new spell, no doubt. She clasped her hands behind her and waited, looking about the room.

The Ancient's chamber was large, rather too large for the few bits of furniture scattered about. His desk was to one side, half-hidden behind the four pillars that stood in the center of the room; a few more shelves lined the walls, holding books and other personal items. Against one wall was the bed that, Raema noted with a pang, had likely not been used since it was placed there. She could almost imagine she saw a layer of dust on its blankets. It had been intended for her to use, she knew. _For the two of us. _

At length, he paused his work to look up at her. "Crassius Curio has sent word from Vivec; the House wants to know how far our reach extends into Telvanni territory. Go and speak with him, answer any questions he might have."

"I will leave immediately," Raema murmured, and as he turned back to his work, she added, "My lord...?"

Assurjan looked up, his quill pen stilling once more against the parchment.

"There has to be another way to gain a healer for the clan," she said. "Surely someone here has studied alchemy, can make potions, or... there has to be _something_ better."

He was silent for a moment before replying. "Something better than destroying our cattle in pursuit of a spell that will, in all likelihood, never work the way I wish it."

Raema blinked. _He can read me too well_. "Well- yes."

"Do you think I did not consider it?" he said quietly. When she didn't answer, he added, "This spell is based on our own natural abilities. If I can perfect it, it can be taught to every member of the clan-"

"And if it doesn't work? If you kill all the clan's cattle and still can't make your bloody spell work, what then?" It came out angrily, but he didn't seem perturbed; he only quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Raema, if you have any other ideas, I would welcome them. But if you wish to discuss spellmaking instead of ethics, I suggest you attend to your own studies first," he said mildly. Clearly dismissing her, he turned his attention back to his papers.

_Stubborn, self-righteous n'wah!_ Raema thought, and let a few more choice insults run through her mind before making herself turn away. Gods, he was infuriating sometimes. She turned to the door, then back again, hesitating.

"Assurjan..."

Reaching to dip his pen in the inkwell, he paused and met her eyes silently, waiting.

"Please don't ask me to send any more slaves to their deaths," she asked, in a near-whisper.

They watched each other for a long moment. Something softened in his expression, revealing a hint of their old familiarity- was it apology, perhaps? He nodded, holding her gaze for a moment longer before turning back to his notes.

Biting her lip, Raema left the room to gather her weapons, wondering if things would ever return to the way they had been before. She had seen a brief glimmer of it in his eyes, a faint reflection of emotions long gone, but she held little hope that they would return. _If only I hadn't driven him quite so far away_, she thought regretfully. _But what's done is done, and I can only hope to fix it in time. Maybe._

There was no use dwelling on it now, not when she had a job to do. Outside Assurjan's bedchamber, she buckled her sword into its place across her back, then pushed thoughts of the Ancient to the back of her mind. Tucking her throwing knife into the side of one boot, she headed toward the stronghold's exit.

He heard the door shut behind her, and the quill pen snapped in half, smearing his fingers with ink. Assurjan dropped the ruined instrument, staring at his stained skin. He should have known better than to send her to fetch the slave, or to let her watch. She had come to accept that his feedings were necessary, she had brought him cattle before... But he had always taken care to limit himself, to allow her to bring back a living slave afterward, not a dead one. Her dark eyes were shadowed by enough horrors already; he didn't want to add any more to them than he already had. But he had been so certain the spell would work...

Frowning at the piles of his notes that littered the desk, he wondered if Raema was right. The spell _should_ work, he knew... it was like an arithmetic sum with a crucial step missing. If he could only find it, the spell would be an immeasurable asset for the clan. To restore a person to health was no easy feat, but what was feeding by touch if not that very thing? It should be so simple to reverse it, to turn the spell's power around...

But if she was right, and he never found the answer... If it was impossible, and he continued to waste time, and power, and the clan's resources while searching for a spell that did not exist, could not be cast...

_If I drive her farther away,_ he added, unhappily. However strained as their relationship had become, he knew it could grow still worse if he was not careful. And perhaps she was right.

Right or not, he had been shut in his rooms too long working on it. He should go see the rest of the clan, see that all was well. Leaving his spellwork for another time, pushing worries for Raema to the back of his mind, he strode from his chamber.


End file.
